


What Baking Can Do

by pengwinn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Baking as a Coping Mechanism, Bucky is observant, Bucky is perfect, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Smut, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Panic Attacks, Self Care, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8675320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengwinn/pseuds/pengwinn
Summary: Darcy and Bucky navigate the wandering path of mental health and healing. But at least they do it together.





	1. I'm No Good in the Outside World, Because I Feel Too Much and Find it Usually Hurts

**Author's Note:**

> This Fic started as a one-shot, and then turned into more. We’ll see how far it goes, shall we? 
> 
> Some parts are smutty, some parts are angsty, some parts are fluffy, and some parts are all three.
> 
> The titles are all lyrics snagged from the musical The Waitress, music and lyrics written by Sara Bareilles. I post the full lyrics in the author’s notes at the end of each chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Bucky Become Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter to start this whole shebang. Some things have been edited and moved around. No smut in this one, we're just starting.

Darcy officially first meets Bucky about a month after she moves into the Tower. She’d seen him around before, of course, but the guy barely spoke to anyone, let alone an intern/assistant like her. He mostly sits in corners, avoiding eye contact and hiding in his quarters when he isn’t with Steve. 

 

Steve, on the other hand, befriends her quickly and easily. He says she reminds him of Bucky, with her snark and dirty sense of humor. “You even have the same smirk.” He tell her. 

 

She doesn’t quite see it, but she thinks he probably would’ve been right back in their day, before the proverbial shit hit the fan. The guy that Steve tells her stories about seems like a lot of fun to be around. This Bucky? Broody-Mc-Hermit-Face? Not so much.

 

Darcy walks in to Cap’s quarters one day and finds Sam Wilson going over a list with him in a little notebook. He’s crossing things off with a disgusted look on his face. “Nah, that’s not worth it. You can skip that. Well, that’s definitely a good idea, but that one, don’t waste your time. You’re not missing much.” She peeks over their shoulder and sees a list of movies and tv shows that Sam is editing for him. 

 

“No, you absolutely cannot cross Full House off that list! That is necessary! 90’s gold, that show is!” She shouts, taking the pen out of Sam’s hand. What follows is an argument that ends in Darcy deciding they’ll be having monthly movie nights, catching Steve up on pop culture, because Sam has been doing a crappy job and it’s time to fill in some holes. 

 

They pile up on Steve’s couch the last Wednesday of every month (or more, if their busy schedules allow it) and make their way down the list. She brings whatever she’s baked that week, Sam brings booze, and Steve buys dinner. It’s a great arrangement. 

 

Until Bucky starts to tag along.

 

It’s the week of Christmas, and they’ve finally finished the Lord of the Rings movies (not her favorite thing, but something that really interested Steve, who it turns out is a huge Fantasy Nerd) and Darcy is arguing with Sam about her Christmas movie choice. “Die Hard is *so* a Christmas movie, and anyone who says otherwise is flat out fucking wrong.” She’s flicking pieces of popcorn at Sam who is annoyingly catching them in his mouth as she does. “It’s festive and it’s an action flick taking down a German terrorist. Cap’s gonna love it!”

 

“Sounds like Buck will too, then.” Steve laughs. 

 

Darcy freezes, her eyes shooting over to the door where Bucky is standing. “Oh, hey there Sarge. You coming to join in on the pop culture education class?”

 

She was hoping to draw a laugh out of him but he just stares at her somewhat blankly and grimaces. She thinks maybe he’s trying to smile at her, but it looks pained and uncomfortable. She smiles back regardless and tosses in the DVD, sitting down on the couch and waiting for the rest of them to join her.

 

Somehow, Bucky ends up sitting in between her and Steve. He holds himself stiff and rigid, keeping his body as far away from her as possible. She pretends not to notice.

 

It turns into a pattern, one that annoys her greatly more and more each time. Bucky joins them every movie night now. He barely speaks to her, ending up next to her on the couch. He’s uncomfortable and awkward and keeps as much distance from her as he can. As soon as the credits roll, he bolts for the door without a word. 

 

She makes it to their fifth movie night before she snaps. She stalks out into the hallway after him, angry and upset. 

 

“Hey!”

 

He freezes but doesn’t turn around. 

 

“Yeah, you, Sergeant Grumpy Cat.”

 

He does turn around at that, his face blank except for a quirked eyebrow. 

 

“What the fuck is your problem, Barnes?”

 

“What?”

 

“Holy shit! It speaks!” She growls. He’s still staring at her with that blank look on his face and it’s making her even angrier. “What the fuck is your problem, Barnes?” She repeats.

 

“What do you mean?” 

  
His voice is gruff and rusty, probably from not using it very much. She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck I did to you, but if you really can’t stand my company that much there’s a really easy solution. Just don’t show up on movie nights.”

 

Bucky blinks at her, seemingly bewildered. “You don’t want me to come to the movie nights?” He asks.

 

“Not if you’re going to act like jumping into vat of acid would be preferable to sitting next to me.” She growls.

 

“You…think I don’t like…you?”

 

Now it’s her turn to be bewildered. Her anger has faded a little bit and she’s feeling a little embarrassed for running out after him. “Well, yeah. You barely say a word to me the whole time, and then you bolt as soon as possible.” She sighs and looks away from him. “I don’t want to eat in to your You and Steve time. I know you lost enough of that, and he’s your best friend. I know I’d kill whoever tried to get between my Me and Jane time.”

 

“That’s not it.” He says it pretty softly and she looks up to see his eyes pleading with her to understand. “I’m just…I don’t…” Bucky runs a hand down his face, looking frustrated. “I’m no good with people anymore. I’m trying, though.” He mumbles. 

 

She nods. “Okay.”

 

“I uh…I do like you. You’re funny. I like the movies you pick better than Wilson’s.”

 

Darcy laughs at that. “All right.” She moves closer to him and holds her hand out. He tenses a bit but grabs her hand anyways and shakes it. “Friends then, Sarge?”

 

“Sure, Doll. Friends.”

 

Her lips curl up into a smile at the endearment. “Friends.”

 

The next movie night, Bucky stays for another five minutes. The one after, he stays for ten. He starts eating her cupcakes and making snarky comments about her movies. 

 

Finally, Darcy can see what Steve means. 

 

This Bucky is pretty fucking awesome. 

 

 

~FIN~ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Opening Up  
> Music and Lyrics by Sara Bareilles
> 
> The day starts like the rest I've seen  
> And all the carbon copy of where I've already been  
> Days keep coming one on one, and they keep coming
> 
> Don't know what I wish I had  
> But there's no time now  
> For thinking things like that  
> I've got too much to do (too much to do)  
> We've got too much to do, too much to do
> 
> Opening up, letting the day in  
> Pour you a cup and say, "Hello, how ya been?"  
> Looking around, seeing the same things  
> It's comforting how some things never change  
> Never change, never change, do they?
> 
> I wouldn't call this place a happy end  
> But I've been 'round the block and just came back again  
> Could be worse, so make it work, no place is perfect
> 
> I'm no good in the outside world  
> Because I feel too much and find it usually hurts  
> I like the way most of the days look exactly the same
> 
> Opening up, every day starts  
> Over a cup, served with, "Hello, how ya been?"  
> Welcoming in, whatever the day brings  
> More of the same things
> 
> Check the clock, tick, tick, tock  
> Don't stop, serve with a smile, hurry up  
> Fill the coffee cup, and then in a while  
> Take a breath, when you need to be reminded  
> That with days like these, we can only do the best we can  
> And do it all again
> 
> It's the heartbeat, the center, the lifeline, you enter
> 
> Opening up, letting the day in  
> Pour you a cup and say, "Hello, how ya been?"  
> Looking around, seeing the same things  
> It's comforting how some things never change  
> Never change, never change and never change


	2. Twist It Into Sugar, Butter Covered Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Darcy becomes the girl that bakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jumping on the Darcy and Bucky train, because it’s been stuck in my brain. 
> 
> It appears that the fandom has decided that Darcy likes to bake. I’m a baker myself, and one of the many reasons I enjoy baking is because I find it incredibly calming, especially for my anxiety. 
> 
> This little plot bunny developed, and so here we are.

Darcy Lewis prides herself on being a badass bitch. She is tough, street smart, edgy, whatever you want to call it. She isn’t a wuss. She can handle herself. 

 

She has *always* been able to handle herself. 

 

That’s why it is so incredibly disconcerting to discover that she has developed an anxiety disorder. 

 

One, teensy, tiny, insignificant run in with some aliens trying to take over the planet and suddenly she’s a bonafide wimp. 

 

It’s embarrassing. 

 

It’s also why she doesn’t put up much of a fight when Tony asks her move into Stark Tower the same time Jane does. Jane has a reason; she’s working around the clock with Bruce to stabilize…something. She can’t remember what. Either way, her work combined with her Godly Beau, it makes sense for Jane to stay at the tower full time. 

 

But Darcy? She’s got no excuse. She’s just Jane’s assistant. She can come and go as she pleases. She has an apartment in Brooklyn she can always return to. 

 

More importantly, she can protect herself. Because she is, as stated before, a bad ass bitch. 

 

As much as she tries to tell herself this, it doesn’t make the idea of living with a bunch of superheroes sound any less appealing. 

 

She cancels the lease on her apartment and moves in a week after Jane does, on the same floor that Jane shares with Thor when he’s not in Asgard. 

 

Darcy tells herself it’s to shorten the work commute to try and ease the blow to her pride. 

 

As much as she’d like it to, living with a bunch of superheroes doesn’t actually ease any of the anxiety crawling underneath her skin. It’s like a living, breathing, screaming creature, growing inside her bones. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think she was being mind whammy’d by Loki or one of his alien lackeys. 

 

The only thing that seems to calm her nerves is baking. She can’t explain why; something about the measurement of ingredients, following a recipe and getting the same result every time, the smell of warm bread and cookies coming out of the oven, all brings her back to her grandparents’ kitchen and her mind is blissfully quiet. 

 

Suddenly, Darcy becomes the girl that bakes. 

 

The Avengers become accustomed to her treats. After all, it’s not like she can eat all of the baked goods her anxiety fuels. She leaves cookies and cupcakes and scones and truffles scattered about the common areas with notes that read ~ “Help yourself!” and “Take some please!”

 

People start asking her to bake favorite recipes when they see her in the halls. Steven and Bucky are particularly fond of sugar cookies. Sam likes her brownies the most. Natasha quietly steals all of the chocolate mousse Darcy makes, and Clint is a big fan of her tiramasu. 

 

She takes their requests gratefully and finds herself falling into a steady rhythm of baking, working, baking, working, repeat, repeat, repeat.

 

 

*-*-*-*

 

 

And then it happens. 

 

Of course it happens. 

 

It occurs to her, as she runs down the hallway, away from the common living room of this floor on Avengers Tower, that the downside of living with a shit ton of superheroes is that their home is inevitably a target for whatever super villain is stalking around New York. 

 

The flavor of the week this time is Crossfire, a relatively low-level threat all things considered. But Darcy is a civilian, all things considered, so the threat is pretty high for her. Robots are flying around her firing off bullets and her breathing is turning ragged and her chest is starting to hurt. She’s not sure she can make it to her apartment door at the end of the hallway where with a press of a button she can put solid steel between her and this craziness, when suddenly someone is grabbing her and pulling her into a room on her left. 

 

Her body tenses and she lets out a startled cry of panic, arms flailing wildly in the most un-bad-ass attempt to protect herself ever. That’s when a familiar voice whispers in her ear, “Darce. It’s me. I’ve got you, doll. I’ve got you.”

 

Her entire body relaxes against his muscled one and she lets out a noise she’s not proud to acknowledge is a whimper. “Bucky. Where-“

 

“My apartment. It’s closer to the living room than yours, isn’t it?”

 

She nods and swallows hard, trying to get her heart to listen to her and stop thudding painfully against her chest. Bucky still hasn’t let go of her. 

 

“You’re all right, it’s okay.”

 

She recognizes that he’s right - at least, her brain does. Her body doesn’t. She’s shaking and her breathing is picking up, and suddenly Bucky is pulling her closer and turning her so that her face is pressed against him, and she’s sobbing into the hard planes of his chest. “I can-, I can’t-, Buck-, I’m dy-“

 

“Shh. It’s all right, you’re not dying Darcy, it’s just a panic attack. They can’t get us in here, I’ve got you. Stevie and Tony and Clint will take care of Cross, I’ve got you.”

 

“We’re gon-, I can’-“

 

“You can breathe. It’s all right. Listen to my breaths. Breathe with me, Darce. Breathe with me. In, hold it, out. Okay? Breathe in, two, three, out, two three. Good. Keep breathing for me, doll. Keep breathing.”

 

In the dark, quiet of Bucky’s living room, he talks her through one of her worst panic attacks to date. After it’s over, he carries her to his bed and tucks her in the sheets, sitting on the floor and leaning against the mattress, making sure she knows she’s safe. 

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

In the months that follows Crossfire’s attack on Stark Tower, Darcy starts to see more and more of Bucky. The simple friendship they started in the hallway outside of Steve's apartment expands, and she finds him showing up at her apartment on random days, hard cider and take out in hand. They start working their way through different tv shows and movies than the ones they're watching with Sam and Steve. It's nice. 

 

She still has her panic attacks (mostly without the presence of super villains, just over silly things like having to get up and go to work in the morning, having to call a customer service line, or having to go to the grocery store) but with the help of JARVIS, online shopping, and baking, she’s getting by.

 

They’re half way through the Evil Dead remake when her timer goes off reminding her to grab the brownies that she’d thrown in before he showed up. She pauses the movie and runs over to the oven to take out the tray, barely noticing that he’s followed her into the kitchenette. 

 

“Had a rough day?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen island. 

 

Darcy places the hot pan of brownies on a pot holder and turns to face him. “I dunno, I guess. Why?” 

 

“You bake when you’re having a bad day.”

 

She laughs at that. “Bucky, I bake all the time.”

 

His face is serious when he answers, “I know.”

 

Shoulders sagging a little, she nods, defeated. “Yeah.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

She doesn’t want to talk about it, but she does. So she does. As she mills around the kitchen getting glasses of milk and plates for them, the words just tumble out of her mouth. “It started after London, really. It’s like…my throat gets tight, and my chest starts to hurt, it feels like my heart it going to rip out of my chest, and I can’t turn it off. And the nightmares, ugh, the nightmares. I wake up and I can’t breathe and I’m crying and I can’t stop. But those at least make sense, y’know? Someone’s chasing me, someone’s after me, I wake up terrified, I get it. But this other stuff. The ones that happen when I’m awake? It’s not even over anything serious, like aliens invading or someone attacking…it’s like, like today I needed to go and grab lunch for Jane. Which is totally in my job description, and she usually ends up paying for me anyways, which is always a score because she goes to the best places in New York to get food, but I got to the first floor and I couldn’t make my feet move, so I went and I sat in the bathroom for twenty minutes and I had JARVIS get something delivered for us and then brought it up to Jane like I’d gone out myself, because I didn’t want her to think I was being lazy and not doing my job and then fire me, and then after lunch I felt so guilty and crazy I sat in the bathroom and cried for twenty minutes-“

 

“And the baking helps?” Bucky interrupts her, thankfully, before she can keep going. 

 

She sighs, sitting down at the table. “Yeah, it does.”

 

“It calms you down?”

 

“It shuts my brain off.” 

 

Bucky nods and joins her at the table. “I had a feeling. Listen, Darce. I’m familiar with…” He pauses, as if he’s looking for the right words. “I get it.” She supposes he does, and she nods. “If you ever need someone to talk to about it, I’m here.” 

 

Darcy smiles at him and thanks him. They eat their brownies and finish the movie in relative silence, but she ends up tucked against his side by the end of the night.

 

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

Two weeks later, she gets a phone call from her mother. Her grandmother is in the hospital and they don’t know if Darcy should come home to see her or not. It’s touch and go. They’ll let her know if she should come. They’ll let her know *when* she should come. 

 

She begs off of work early and crumbles into a ball in her apartment, barely making it to the living room floor. The sobs pour out of her, leaving her throat feeling like sandpaper. Her body shakes and her chest burns, pressure closing in on her on every side. She wants to go to her kitchen and start making a batch of chocolate chip cookies, lemon squares, anything, but she can’t get her brain to send the signal to her feet, she can’t get herself to stop crying and rocking back and forth. 

 

She doesn’t even hear the knock on her door. 

 

Suddenly he’s there, a solid, heavy presence wrapped around her, running his fingers through her hair and whispering to her. He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he’ll help her fix it, he’ll help her, he’s here, he’s here, he’s here. 

 

Slowly her breathing comes back to normal and her body relaxes into him, and she tells him that she’s not ready to lose her Noni, she doesn’t know how she’ll live without her, and he holds her and tells her about all the people he’s lost and how he made it through and so will she. 

 

When she’s finally stopped shaking he carries her to bed and tucks her in again, but this time she asks him to stay. Bucky stares at her for a long moment and nods, kicking off his boots and laying down next to her, curling his arm around her as she cuddles up against his right side. 

 

For the first time since London, she falls asleep and doesn’t dream at all. 

 

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

 

She wakes up that morning with the feeling of a warm body pressed against her own and she moans quietly at the sensation. Despite her best efforts she’s developed a quiet crush on Bucky in the last few months, and waking up next to him is something she never thought she’d get to experience. She reminds herself resolutely that he stayed because she asked him to; because she was a dame in distress and he’s a gentleman (for the most part) who is one of the only people that knows about her panic attacks and he just wanted to help her. 

 

The fact that he’s warm and hard and smells amazing is neither here nor there. 

 

Slowly, she shifts and wiggles until she’s almost out of his arms, trying desperately not to wake him. His flesh hand pulls her back flush against his body and he nuzzles his nose into her hair, breathing deeply. “Mornin’.” He murmurs. 

 

“Morning.” 

 

“Where you going?”

 

“I uh…I figured I’d make us some coffee.”

 

“No. Stay.” His fingers tighten against her arm and she relaxes a little, still not sure what to do. “What’s the matter, Darce?”

 

“Nothing, I-“

 

“Doll.”

 

He’s opened his eyes now, staring down at her with a ‘Don’t even try it’ look. She shrugs her shoulders and looks down at the sheets, picking off invisible pieces of lint. “I like waking up next to you.” She whispers. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Which is totally whatever. I know that you stayed because of the panic attack and you wanted to make sure I was okay, and this doesn’t…it’s not like…it’s totally whatever. I just…it’s…”

 

“Darcy, look at me.” She looks up at him (with a lot of effort) and sees a sleepy, crooked grin splashed across his features. “I like waking up next to you too.”

 

She swallows, her throat suddenly dry for a reason completely different than panic. “Yeah?”  


“Yeah.” He tugs her to sit on top of his thighs, straddling him. “Yeah, I like it a lot.” 

 

“Is this…do you…”

 

He surges forward and presses his lips against hers, soft but insistent. She closes her eyes and kisses back, leaning forward so that she’s pressing into him with her hands splayed against the mattress on either side of his head. His hands move to her hips to anchor her and he nips at her lower lip, causing a moan to trip out and giving him the opportunity to deepen the kiss, curling his tongue against hers. 

 

As the kiss turns from soft to scorching, he rolls them so that he’s on top, nudging her legs open to make room for him. His hands move down her sides, tracing her rib cage, back up to her shoulders, light touches down her arms that raise goosebumps in their wake. He trails feather light fingers down her legs, tripping up her thighs and causing her to breathe in on a gasp. 

 

“This all right?” He asks. Darcy smiles and nods, trying to reach his lips again but he shakes his head, smiling. She quirks an eyebrow at him but her unvoiced question is answered when he trials his lips down the side of her neck to her collarbone. “I wanna taste every bit of you.” He murmurs into her skin. 

 

And he does. He works her out of her t-shirt and kisses up her belly, back to her throat. He licks across her collarbone, nipping down to the swell of her breast and taking her nipple entirely into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. Her fingers grip his hair tightly as he repeats his actions on the other side and his fingers move down to her hips, nudging her pants and her panties out of the way in a smooth move she’s not going to resist. 

 

His lips eventually meet up with his hands, his tongue twirling against her clit as one finger glides through the slick between her legs and enters her slowly, teasingly, achingly. She whimpers and arches against him and he laughs, the hot breath making her shudder. He adds a second finger and curls them, rubbing that spot she can’t reach on her own as he speeds up the movement of his tongue and suddenly she’s crashing, burning, whimpering out a long, needy sound that almost resembles his name. 

 

When her muscles relax and her fingers finally listen to her brain telling them to untangle from his hair, he kisses his way back up her body and presses his lips against hers again. “That okay, doll?”

 

“Mmm. More than.” She murmurs, kissing him softly. 

 

“Good.” He nips at her ear. “You taste just as good as I thought you would.” 

 

She whimpers at that. “Bucky…”  


“I could eat you all day.” She rolls her hips against him, groaning at the feeling. Bucky laughs and pins her hips down with his hands. “As much as I’d love to, I don’t have anything Doll. It’s not like I was planning this.”

 

Darcy smiles. “What if I told you I was on the pill?” 

 

“I’d say thank the lord above because I want to fuck you like you wouldn’t believe right now.”

 

“I think I might have a vague idea.”

 

When Bucky pushes inside her, she groans against his throat and his head drops to her shoulder. He stays still for a minute, almost as if he’s getting his bearings, and then suddenly he’s moving and she’s whimpering into his neck. She clings to his shoulders and rolls her hips in time with his, wrapping her legs around his hips to try and get a better angle. He sets a punishing pace that has her seeing stars, and she gasps with each thrust of his hips into hers. 

 

It isn’t long before she can feel herself tightening around him, the heat in her belly coiling and growing, the needy sound rumbling in her throat again. Her fingernails dig into his back as she comes, long and hard, back bowed off the bed and head flung back. He fucks her through it, chasing his own, murmuring about how amazing she feels and how beautiful she looks, and fucking hell, she thinks, this man is perfect.

 

After they’re done, chests heaving and breaths slowly evening out, she feels her heartbeat start to steady and curls up against his side. He kisses her forehead and sighs, a heavy satisfied sound she thinks she’d like to hear again and again. 

 

“You know.” She murmurs, nuzzling against his neck. “My brain turned off for most of that.”

 

“That so?” 

 

She can hear the smile in his voice. “Mmm. I think, if you’re willing, that could replace the whole baking thing.”

 

“Oh, I’m willing. Just give me five minutes and I can turn that brain off again for you.”

 

Darcy laughs and tugs the blankets up around them. “Maybe we should shower.”

 

“Nah. I plan to spend the rest of the day in bed with my girl.”

 

“Your girl, huh?”

 

“Yeah. That okay with you, Darce?”

 

She smiles against his skin and nods. “Yeah, that’s okay with me.”

 

 

 

 

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Baking Can Do  
> Lyrics and Music by Sara Bareilles
> 
>  
> 
> Make it work  
> Make it easy  
> Make it clever, craft it into pieces  
> Make it sweet  
> Crimp the edges  
> Or make it sour and serve with lemon wedges  
> Even doubt  
> Can be delicious  
> And it washes off of all the dirty dishes  
> When it's done  
> I can smile  
> It's on someone else's plate for a while
> 
> I'll place it on display  
> And then I'll slice and serve my worries away
> 
> I can fix this  
> I can twist it into sugar, butter covered pieces  
> Never mind what's underneath it  
> I have done it before  
> I'll bake me a door to help me get through  
> I learned that from you  
> Mama, it's amazing what baking can do
> 
> Make it up  
> And surprise them  
> Tell them all my secrets but disguise them  
> So they dance on the tongue  
> Of the very people that they're secrets from  
> Make it soon  
> Make it better  
> Though, better never lasts forever  
> I'll make it small so it fits . . . .
> 
> Even this . . .  
> Even now . . .  
> Even as the walls come tumbling down  
> Even as I can't stop remembering how  
> Every door we ever made, we never once walked out  
> Something I never got the chance to ask her about
> 
> So with flour on my hands  
> I'll show them all how  
> Goddamn happy I am  
> Sugar, butter, flour  
> Don't let me down!  
> Let's see the next amazing thing baking does now


	3. When Your Breaking Point's All That You Have

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds out on Facebook, of all fucking places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is traveling to Angst-ville.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, sorry kiddos, there's no smut. 
> 
>  
> 
> IRL, I'm coming up on the one-year anniversary of my best friend's death. True story, I found out on Facebook. Her sister's friend posted a status before most of the family members knew.
> 
>  
> 
> She died not too long after my older brother and my aunt. It was a rough time.
> 
>  
> 
> I had a small group of friends that got me through it. We didn't really do much except sit in our living rooms, throw on movies, and cry together. We went shopping for funeral clothes together, got random meals together, and just worked our way through it.
> 
>  
> 
> I did a lot of baking.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is gonna be a bit cathartic for me, so I apologize in advance if it upsets anyone.
> 
>  
> 
> The chapter title is another one from The Waitress, this time from the song A Soft Place to Land. Lyrics posted at the end. 
> 
>  
> 
> Here we go.

She finds out on Facebook, of all fucking places. 

 

She's sitting on the couch in the common living room, curled up next to Bucky on a movie night. (Shortly after Darcy moved in to the tower, Cap and Bucky asked her to help them catch up on some modern day pop culture. When word got round that Darcy was running these movie nights and her baked goods were involved, it became a whole-team-affair). Her phone goes off she almost doesn't look at it, not wanting to be distracted from the movie. But then it goes off, one text after the other. 

 

Checking her text messages grumpily, she sees a myriad of messages from her childhood friend Danielle, asking if she's all right and if there's anything she needs. 

 

What do you mean? Of course I'm all right, why wouldn't I be? 

 

I saw your cousin Toni's post.

 

Darcy toggles straight to Facebook. 

 

And there it is. In black and white (and blue). 

 

Toni, in all her tact and glory, has posted a behemoth of a status, memorializing their Noni for all of Facebook to see. 

 

And no one bothered to call Darcy. (She'd later discover that Toni had posted the status at the hospital, moments after their Noni passed away, and that no one had gotten a chance to call anyone before it blew up on Facebook. She wasn't the only family member to find out that way.)

 

She tenses, tears springing up against her will. She can feel the sobs coming, and Bucky must too because he looks down at her. Before he can ask her if she's all right, she murmurs, "Family emer-gotta-" and bolts from the room. 

 

Vaguely, she hears people calling after her but she doesn't care. She needs to get home, she needs to get to her apartment and pack, and she's running through all of the things she needs to pack as she all but runs down the hall towards her room. She's trying to call her mother but her fingers shake and she can't hit the keys. She's in front of her door before she remembers to ask JARVIS. 

 

"JARVIS, call-" Wheeze. "Fuck, JARVIS-"

 

"Ms. Lewis, are you all right?"

 

"Call, my mom, please, JARVIS?" She finally gets her damn door open and curls up against the wall, already quietly crying. "Please JARVIS, please."

 

"Of course."

 

The line rings over the speakers in her room and her mom answers within seconds. She apologizes profusely, telling Darcy that wasn't how she wanted anyone to find out and she'll tear Toni a new one when she sees her. She'll pay for Darcy's flight home, and bring whoever she wants and stay as long as she wants, and come as soon as she wants. When they hang up Darcy is standing in front of her closet, staring at her clothes, trying to figure out what you wear to your favorite person's funeral. 

 

Nothing seems appropriate. 

 

When Bucky enters the room, Darcy is screaming she's crying so hard, clothes strewn all about the room, the sobs racking through her body. She's trembling and shaking, pacing and rambling nonsense about what the fuck is she going to wear and how can she pick something and what is she going to do now that she's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone. The word repeats in her head, she's gone gone gone gone gone gone gone. Gone forever, never coming back, gone gone gone gone gone gone gone. 

 

He pulls her into his arms and just holds her, listening to her sob. He says, "I know, doll." over and over again. He reminds her to breathe. In, hold it, out. In, two, three, out. 

 

When she calms down, finally, they've slid down the wall and she's resting between his spread legs, her back to his front. His hands are running up and down her arms soothingly and she rests her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his aftershave. "Thank you." She whispers, voice hoarse. 

 

"Any time."

 

*-*-*

 

The next morning, Darcy knocks on his door. She's sorted out all her work stuff with Jane, talked with her mother, and is flying home that night. 

 

She wants Bucky to come with her. 

 

She needs him to. 

 

"Hey, kitten. What's up?" 

 

She doesn't know why she's nervous. She's half sure Bucky is going to say yes. All she needs to do is ask. 

 

It's just, they haven't defined what they are. Not really, not besides him calling her "his girl". He's never met her family. This is kind of a shitty way to do it. 

 

"Darce?"

 

"Willyoucomewithme?" She directs the hurried question to the wall behind his head. "My mom wants me to say something at the funeral and my family can be really horrible and I don't know how I'm going to make it through this whole thing and I really want you there with me and I know it's a lot to ask so if you don't want to it's okay but I figured it was-"

 

He cuts her off with a quick press of his lips to hers. "I was just waiting for you to ask, Darce. I packed a bag already."

 

She collapses against him in relief and he smiles into her hair. "Thank you. You're amazing. Do you know that?"

 

"Anything for my girl."

 

*-*-*-*

 

The thought of going shopping for an outfit to wear makes her stomach churn. She can't. 

 

Bucky makes the trip bearable. They go with her mother, quietly browsing the racks. He mostly talks to her mom, filling the dreary silence with polite conversation about her work and asking for stories about Darcy's childhood. 

 

They eventually find a dress for the wake and a skirt and top for the funeral. He pays for both her and her mother. 

 

He makes them both smile and laugh with stories from he and Steve's childhood, and treats them to lunch even though no one is in the mood to eat. 

 

He drives, and he carries all of the bags. 

 

She is reminded again of how god damn fucking perfect this man is. 

 

*-*-*-* 

 

The wake is awful. Sometimes, Darcy doesn't understand Catholics and their need to draw things out. It’s not just going to be the worst day of her life. It’s going to be the worst week.

 

At first, she doesn't want to go into the room with the casket. She doesn't want to see her Noni like that. She remembers her Uncle Sal's wake. He looked grey and his mouth was sewn shut, and his hair looked all wrong. She'd had nightmares for months. 

 

Quietly, her mom tells her that she'll regret saying good bye, and to at least try. 

 

Darcy walks into the room, Bucky trailing slightly behind her. When she reaches the casket he grabs her hand and squeezes, gently, then tighter as she squeezes back. "I got you, doll."

 

She kneels in front of the casket and looks at her grandmother. The makeup is cake-y and all wrong colored. Her mouth is sewn shut in a frown, wrinkles all making her face look harsh and unkind. She's in a sparkly blue turtleneck, which Darcy’s mother said they picked so they could hide the tracheotomy scar. Darcy wishes they’d picked a different color. Noni hated blue. 

 

The only thing that they got right was her hair. It was curled just the way she liked it, soft and gentle and framing her face perfectly. 

 

Darcy cries into Bucky's shoulder and he wraps his arm around her. 

 

She hugs all her aunts and uncles in the line, introducing Bucky as she goes. They all stare, because of course he needs no introduction, and how the hell does she know him, but that's not important right now so they let her go. 

 

They walk around the funeral home a bit and look at the photo boards. Bucky is smiling at each one. Darcy is in more than half of them.

 

It strikes Darcy that some of these photos are probably reminding him of his childhood. In actuality he's not that much older than her grandmother. 

 

A lot of the pictures are from her childhood. Her favorite is one of her when she’s around five. Her wild dark curls are pulled on top of her head and she’s perched on a step stool in front of her Noni's kitchen counter. Her Noni, in a brilliant purple (her favorite color) apron, is standing next to her. They are both covered head to toe in white flour. 

 

Darcy had turned the stand mixer on without the flour shield while they were making chocolate chip cookies. 

 

Bucky laughs and nudges her shoulder with his. It feels good to smile. 

 

“Noni would’ve liked you, you know.” She whispers. 

  
“I think I would’ve liked her too, dollface.”

 

They make their way to a side room, sitting down near some of her cousins. Kristen smiles at her and hugs her. Michael pats her on the shoulder. Brandon nods at her and Bucky. 

 

It's only Toni who really sets her off. 

 

Toni is sitting in a corner, away from the family, flocked by her friends. She's loudly weeping, going on and on about how she doesn't know what she's going to do now, her best friend is gone. "No one loved her like I did, you know? I was her favorite." She says this as she glares over at Darcy. "The rest of the grandkids, they ran off. They scattered. They left her here alone. Do you know I was the only one who was at the hospital?"

 

Bucky's hand tightens so hard on the arm of the chair the wood cracks a bit. 

 

Darcy looks over at him and sees his teeth clenched, eyes glaring daggers at Toni. To her credit, the dumb bitch looks appropriately scared to see a super soldier judging her for her shit. 

 

"It's not worth it Bucky." She whispers. "Let's take a walk."

 

They go outside and Bucky paces in front of the building, clearly enraged. "Everyone knows she's full of shit, right?"

 

"Yep. She's kind of the worst. No one likes her."

 

"Your mom told you she'd tell you when to come home. You would've been there if you thought it was that bad."

 

Darcy is touched that Bucky is so upset for her. Defensive of her. It's nice. She smiles weakly. "Yeah. They all know. It's just Toni being Toni."

 

"That's stupid. She shouldn't be able to do that shit. She's a grown woman. Not a child."

 

"Can't make her change."

 

"You could call her on her shit."

 

He spins to stare at her, confusion and anger in his eyes. "Not right now." She answers, her voice cracking. "Noni wouldn't have wanted it."

 

His gaze softens. "All right. Come here kitten." He opens his arms to her and she walks into them gratefully. 

 

"Can we go?"

 

"Anywhere you want."

 

"Let me just text my mom."

 

They spend the night sitting in her high school bedroom, looking through old photo albums as she tells him stories about her Noni. 

 

Somehow she manages to write her speech. 

 

It's well past two when they finally fall asleep, his shirt wet with her tears. 

 

*-*-*-*

 

It doesn't escape Toni's notice that Darcy is the only grandchild that has been asked to speak. At first, she's furious. She screams in front of the family and raises a huge scene. Bucky has to leave the room so he doesn't yell at her. 

 

By the time friends show up, Toni has decided to tell everyone that she's too overwhelmed with grief to make a speech. She's not sure how anyone can get up there and speak, feeling the way she does. 

 

Darcy rolls her eyes, grits her teeth, and bears it. 

 

Her mom stands behind her while she speaks. 

 

“Noni…” Her voice cracks a little and she finds Bucky in the sea of chairs before her. “Noni was one of those people you only meet once in a lifetime. She was pure sunshine, walking around shining on everyone she met. Her passion in life was her family. But for her, her family wasn’t just her blood. It was everyone that walked through her front door. All her children’s friends, and then when they had children, all her grandchildren’s friends too. She took everyone into her heart and held them with her everywhere she went. She sent letters, made phone calls, sent everyone a birthday card, a Christmas card, hell, she even sent out Easter cards. She always made sure she took care of everyone. She used to say to me, ‘Darcy, you take care of people, and when you need them, they’ll take care of you. That’s family. That’s love.’ Noni was like that; she always made sure you felt like you were the most important person in the room. She hated smartphones and technology because it kept us all distracted. We didn’t pay attention to each other anymore, she said. No one ever talked.” Darcy pauses and takes a breath, looking back at her mother. “When I moved away, to New Mexico, and then London, and then New York, I was...I almost didn't go." She swallows through a fresh wave of grief. Her throat is tight and she gasps. She looks at Bucky.

 

Last night he'd said, 'Just read it to me, Darce. Don't read it to anyone else. Read it to me.' With a deep breath, she continues. 

 

"I didn't want to be that far away from my family. Every time, I was going to turn down the internship, quit the internship and stay home, come back home. But Noni, she wouldn't hear it. I'd gone to school, I'd done all that learning, I couldn't pass up the opportunity. Who knew what I'd miss out on?" She looks at Bucky and he smiles knowingly. " 'You won't find anything new here, vita mia', she told me. 'Go find yourself something special.' Noni always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. And then she’d yell at me until I believed in me too.”

 

Everyone laughed at that. The tension in her chest eased up a little bit. 

 

“Life without her these past few days has felt empty; it’s felt like the sky has swallowed up the sun. Like my heart is getting buried in that casket with her. But the other night, when I was driving here from the airport, one of our songs came on the radio. Come Fly With Me. You remember how much Nana loved Sinatra.” Her eyes tear up again and she clears her throat somewhat unsuccessfully into the microphone. Some of her cousins are wiping at their eyes and nodding along as she speaks. “I stopped, and I pulled over to listen.” Bucky smiles at her. He’d been a confused at first, when she’d pulled over to the side of the highway in the rain. But when she’d held on to the steering wheel and sang with tears in her eyes, he understood. “I felt her there with me, like a little ray of sunshine sitting on my shoulder. I looked up at the stars and smiled through my tears, and I said thank you, and I told her that I loved her.” 

 

Another deep breath. “Noni knew I was a bookworm. She said it was one of my best qualities.” She laughs and her cousins laugh with her. “I think she’d find it incredibly fitting that I said my final goodbye to her with a quote from one of my favorite childhood stories. ‘In one of the stars, I shall be living. In one of them, I shall be laughing. And so-“ Her voice breaks again, the tears start falling and she cries through the rest of it. Her mom stands up next to her and holds her hand as she finishes. “ ‘And so it will be as if all of the stars were laughing when you look at the sky at night.’” She turns to face the casket, tears streaming down her face. Her makeup is getting ruined but she doesn’t care. “Whenever I look up at the sky Noni, I’ll know you’re there laughing. I love you, so so much. I’ll miss you forever and for always.” 

 

With that done, she folds up the tear soaked paper, tucks it into her blazer pocket, and numbly walks back to the seat where Bucky is waiting. She listens to the priest for the next twenty minutes, but her eyes are unfocused and she’s not really hearing any of the words. Bucky rubs his hand across her back in comforting circles and leans over to whisper in her ear occasionally that they’re almost done, she can almost leave, they’re almost done. 

 

They bury Noni next to her Papa. The roses are purple and white and Darcy grabs a few to take home with her. 

 

*-*-*-*

 

She skips the Mercy Meal. It’s always felt weird to her that they have a party after a funeral. Apparently it’s a celebration of the loved one’s life, a way to change the tone of the day from melancholy to jubilant. It makes sense, but she can’t stomach it. She tells her mother quietly that she’s going to go home, and her mother understands. It’s written all over her face.

 

Her skin is crawling, her muscles feel tense, overworked. She feels like she ran a marathon. She’s exhausted and her head is aching. She wants to go to sleep and never ever wake up. 

 

What’s the use in waking up in a world without Noni, anyways? 

 

Bucky walks her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her peel out of her funeral clothes. He runs a hot bath for her, in her mother’s old fashioned claw foot tub, then slips in beside her. He massages her shoulders and back as the hot water eases the tension out of her body. She turns in his arms and kisses him, slowly and sweetly. He smiles against her lips. 

 

They change into fluffy pajamas, curl up on her full sized bed and watch old movies on Netflix until she passes out. 

 

She wakes up that morning with frizzy, out of control hair, but it was totally worth it. 

 

*-*-*-*

 

They stay with her mother for two more days. She wants to make sure her mom is okay before they go back to New York. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind. He likes her family, and they like him. 

 

It makes Darcy smile. 

 

When they get back to the tower, Darcy walks around feeling numb and cold and empty. She bakes and bakes and bakes. She bakes chocolate chip, peanut butter, and snickerdoodle cookies. She makes brownies and blondies and four different types of muffins. She makes cannoli and tiramisu. She makes apple crostata. She makes snowflakes Christmas cookies and cream cake and eclairs and mousse.

 

It doesn’t help. 

 

She feels worse than before; the anxiety is still there but it’s being overwhelmed by this grief, by this sorrow. She feels it in her bones. Every step, every breath, every heart beat. Noni is gone, gone, gone, gone, gone. 

 

But every time she feels like she’s going to go over the edge, every time she wants to curl up in a ball and never come back out again, Bucky’s there, holding her hand. He’s there to cuddle up next to and watch a movie, he’s there to cry with, he’s there singing Frank Sinatra, he’s just…there.

 

She finds that’s enough. 

 

Sometimes, it’s all you can do. 

 

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A Soft Place to Land" from The Waitress  
> Music and lyrics by Sara Bareilles.
> 
> Sugar  
> Sugar, butter, flour  
> Sometimes I still see her  
> My mother the dreamer  
> She'd say, "Nothing's impossible child"
> 
> A dream needs believing  
> To taste like the real thing  
> Like some stranger you recognize  
> So pure, so pure, so electric  
> So sure, so sure, so connected  
> To those little believers inside  
> May we all be so lucky
> 
> But dreams are elusive  
> The kind we've gotten used to  
> Is nothing I can feel  
> Nothing I can hold  
> Nothing I can have  
> Nothing that I know  
> Dreams come and they go
> 
> But hold them and keep them  
> And know that you need them  
> When your breaking point's all that you have  
> A dream is a soft place to land  
> May we all be so lucky  
> Sugar, butter, flour


	4. Simple and Plain and Not Much to Ask From Somebody…You Matter to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's POV this time. 
> 
> He's not good with words. He just wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The love in the comments on this fic have been amazing. You guys are wonderful, and I thank you so much for your kind words. 
> 
> I'm letting the plot bunnies run the way they'd like, and I'm really happy with where it's going. 
> 
> This chapter is the beginning of Darcy dealing with the idea of therapy and how scary it can be to talk to a stranger about your problems. It's a bit short, but I promise next time it'll be longer.
> 
> The title comes from "You Matter to Me", another song from The Waitress. Lyrics are at the end.

This feels all sorts of wrong. It feels like breaking someone’s trust. It feels like stabbing her in the back and kicking her while she’s down. It feels like he’s betraying her. 

 

But he’s at a loss. 

 

Since the death of her Noni, Darcy’s condition has gotten worse, not better. He’s been doing his best to help her, in his own broken way. Sleeping at her place most nights, baking with her. He’s constantly by her side, trying to be a warm, comforting presence. It’s not his strong suit, but she seems to appreciate it. Pretty much any time he’s not on a mission, he’s with Darcy.

 

So on a Tuesday night, when Darcy is staying late at the lab with Jane, Bucky goes to see Sam for a session and decides to bring it up. He’s been making progress, working through his own issues (of which there are a myriad). He figures if anyone knows what to do for his girl, it’s Sam. 

 

“I don’t know what to do for her.” He sighs and rubs his hand down his face, frustrated. “I mean, she doesn’t like to talk about it. She doesn’t want anyone else to know, which I get. She’s embarrassed. Hell, it took me over a year to even sit in the room with you and even then…”

 

“You wouldn’t talk for another three weeks.” Sam nods in agreement. “Well, you can’t force someone to talk, Buck. I get why you’re worried. We all are.”

 

Bucky sighs in relief. At least the other Avengers have noticed. He thought it was just him and Stevie. “What can I do for her?”

 

Sam looks at him a long moment with an uncomfortable scrutinizing stare. “You really love Darcy, don’t you?”

 

“I think so, yeah.” Bucky says, swallowing. 

 

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. She isn’t ready to talk yet, and that’s okay. But she’s not shutting everyone out, and that says a lot. I’d be more worried if she was trying to handle this on her own, honestly. If you can, try and get her to come talk to me. I’m a friend, so it might be less intimidating than some shrink she doesn’t know. Plus, you can tell her how much I’ve helped your sorry ass adjust to the 21st century.”

 

Bucky laughs. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

Sam smiles. “Any time. Now enough about your girlfriend, let’s get back to those night terrors.”

 

 

*-*-*-*-*

 

 

About a week later, he walks into Darcy’s apartment, Chinese takeout in hand. They’ve got plans to continue working their way through Doctor Who (Bucky’s favorite so far has been 9, but Darcy keeps telling him to wait until they get to 11), and he’s been looking forward to this all day. 

 

They haven’t gotten to see each other at all this week despite their best efforts; after a particularly difficult mission Steve decided that the team needed to train more and get more in sync with each other. They’ve been training every day since they got back. On Darcy’s end, she’s been working non-stop in the lab, ostensibly helping Jane with a breakthrough (involving science too difficult for Bucky to understand), but really she’s there to make sure Jane takes breaks to eat and occasionally nap and shower.

 

So yeah, it’s been a while since he’s laid back with his girl curled under his arm and enjoyed the peaceful way he feels when he’s with her. 

 

He finds Darcy in the kitchen, her hair pulled up in a messy top knot, face speckled with flour. Her entire body screams tension. Every move she makes, every step she takes, he can see how upset she is. She hasn’t even noticed that he’s entered the apartment. He reminds himself yet again that she is basically a civilian, and that he needs to start training her somewhat if she’s going to be spending all of her time around the team. 

 

“Doll?” 

 

She jumps, knocking over a bowl of softened butter. The bowl drops to the floor and shatters and the butter sloshes over the tiles of the floor. She shouts a little and clutches her chest, breath heaving a little too fast for his comfort. “Jesus, Barnes. Don’t do that to me.” She looks down at the destroyed bowl and sighs. “Shit.”

 

There are brownies on the counter and what looks like the beginnings of banana bread in her mixer. The air smells like peanut butter and he eyes the oven. “Darce?”

 

She stands up and looks at him, the paper towel in her hand full of the broken pieces of porcelain. “Yeah?”

 

“Talk to me.” He says it simply, not a question, but not a demand either. A gentle prompt. 

 

Darcy nods. “It’s been a week.” 

 

She busies herself with cleaning up the rest of the mess, her shoulders still tense. He waits until she finishes and turns back to face him, leaning against the counter. “I know.”

 

“Jane is just…” She sighs. “No, that’s not fair. I can’t blame this week on Jane. She’s working too hard, which is kind of her thing. She’s not sleeping, she’s not eating. But neither am I, I guess. I’m exhausted. And I’ve been talking to my mom a lot, she’s having a hard time with everything and we’re just texting every day. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I’m trying so hard, but it’s starting to feel like it’s not enough.”

 

“So peanut butter cookies and banana bread and brownies?” He says.

 

“I missed you. A lot. And I know that there’s nothing we can do when it happens like this, y’know? I mean, it’s just our lives, our work. And I know you’re not always going to be safe. I worried about you so much while you were gone on the mission and then you came home and you had to train even more and I couldn’t sleep without you, I couldn’t…” She sighs again and turns away from him, grabbing more butter out of the fridge and going to soften it in the microwave. “I know I lean on you too much. I know I do. And if I don’t stop, we’re not going to last. No one can be this much to one person, it's not fair. We’re so new, this thing that we are…I don’t want to ruin it. I didn’t want to text you too much, or call you, or annoy you. And I thought if I just powered through it…it’d ease up, you know?”

 

“Darcy.” He puts the take out on the counter and walks up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Doll, you’re not going to annoy me. Do you not realize how much you help me? How much you matter to me?” He turns her around and pulls her into him, smiling when she wraps her arms around his middle. “I’ve been going crazy this week without you. Missed you too. I’m not good with words. I’m not good with talking about feelings. I guess I’m as dumb as Stevie’s always telling me I am, I thought you just knew.”

 

He feels her breath stutter underneath his hands on her back. When she speaks, he can tell she’s crying. “I help?”

 

He tilts her chin up so that she’ll look at him, so she can know how serious he is. “All the time.”

 

She smiles and leans up to kiss him softly. “Good.”

 

“We help each other.” 

 

“That’s good to know.”

 

The timer goes off and she pulls away to get the cookies out of the oven. He takes a deep breath and decides to go for it, hoping she won’t shut down on him. “Sam helps, too.”

 

Darcy turns around and puts the cookies on the counter, nodding. “I know.”

 

“If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in the same bed as you. He’s been helping me with the night terrors. He’s been helping me with a lot. It’s good to have someone to talk to, someone who knows how to help.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She’s not meeting his eye, her voice steady and detached. Shit.

 

“I’m not trying to push, Darce.”

 

She sighs and nods. “I know.”

 

He walks over to her, pulling her against him again. He kisses her forehead, tucking some stray curls behind her ears. “I just want to help.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Will you think about it?” 

 

“I will.”

 

Deciding that’s enough, he tilts her chin up again and kisses her, long and somewhat desperately. “Can the banana bread wait for another night?” He asks. 

 

She smiles and nods. “Yeah, it can.”

 

“Good. Because I would like to show you how very much I missed you.”

 

“And then dinner?”

 

“And then dinner.”

 

As he picks her up and carries her down the hall to her bedroom, he thinks that yeah, they’re going to be okay. It’s going to take a while, and a lot of work, but if he gets to spend the rest of his life with this woman, it’s going to be worth it. 

 

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You Matter to Me  
> From The Broadway Musical The Waitress  
> Music and Lyrics by Sara Bareilles
> 
>  
> 
> I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes  
> They've seen things that you never quite say, but I hear  
> Come out of hiding, I'm right here beside you  
> And I'll stay there as long as you let me
> 
> Because you matter to me  
> Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody  
> You matter to me  
> I promise you do, you, you matter too  
> I promise you do, you see?  
> You matter to me
> 
> It's addictive the minute you let yourself think  
> The things that I say just might matter to someone  
> All of this time I've been keeping my mind on the running away  
> And for the first time I think I'd consider the stay
> 
> Because you matter to me  
> Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody  
> You matter to me  
> I promise you do, you, you matter too  
> I promise you do, you see?  
> You matter to me
> 
> And you matter to me  
> Simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody  
> You matter to me  
> I promise you do, you  
> (Out of hiding I'm right here beside you)  
> You matter too  
> (As long as you have me)  
> I promise you do, you, you matter too  
> (Out of hiding I'm right here beside you)  
> I promise you do, you, you matter too  
> (I do, I promise you do, you matter to me)  
> I promise you do, you see  
> You matter to me


	5. To Fight Just a Little, to Bring Back The Fire in Her Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gives self-care a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, so, to start with. Thank you guys, all of you, for all the nice comments you’ve left. It’s really exciting to check my e-mail and see all the notifications saying that people are reading this drivel I write. Seriously. It makes my day. 
> 
> Second, I’ve gotten a lot of plot bunnies running around in my head for this thread. As such, I’ve had to go back and edit chapters and clean up continuity errors (and some typos, yuck. I guess I missed those when editing the first time around), so if you get confused you can always go back and check. Some things might’ve shifted a bit. Chapters definitely have shifted around a little.
> 
> And third, today is a double update. I dunno if it’ll keep happening that way, but maybe it will. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, and keep the comments coming! Constructive criticism is always welcome and appreciated! :)

Tinny. That’s the first word that he can think of to describe the music he's hearing through her apartment door. Tinny, and metallic, and kind of…robotic. And loud. Extremely loud. 

 

When he first got back - to Steve, to the Avengers, to himself - he’d had a hard time adjusting. To literally everything, but mostly the time period. Things that would’ve been crass and rudeback in his day were commonplace. People didn’t respond the same way. Everything had changed, it seemed, and he wasn’t sure where to start.

 

Steve had tried, desperately, to catch him up. It seemed to be calming to Steve, that at least he could help Bucky adjust somehow, even if it was only through movie nights (often with Darcy) and playlists (usually supplied by Sam). Sam had laughed when the two of them fumbled around on a computer.

 

None of the playlists Sam had given him had anything that sounded quite like this on them. 

 

As he walks into her apartment, he almost wishes he hadn’t. The door had been muffling the music more than he’d expected; he winces at the deafening volume. He shakes his head. Maybe there was a reason Sam had skipped this. 

 

“Doll, what is this cra-“

 

He doesn't finish his sentence because Darcy (who hasn't heard him at all over the blaring music) is dancing around the living room. Her eyes are shut, hair wild and curly whipping around her face, wearing only one of his button downs and a gigantic smile. She's singing along enthusiastically to the song he was going to insult. She looks fucking amazing, and undeniably happy. 

 

“Trying to get away, into the night, and then you put your arms around me and we tumble to the ground and then you say, I think we’re alone now! There doesn’t seem to be anyone around! I think we’re alone now, the beating of our hearts is the only sound!”

 

She's shaking her hips, jerking her shoulders in time with the music, and doing this ridiculous dance with her hands. One look at the TV shows him where this dance came from. Bucky reads the tiny print in the corner of the video. “Tiffany?”

 

Darcy jumps about a foot in the air and tumbles back with a, “Shit!” He easily catches her and pulls her back against him. “Bells.” She mumbles. “I need to sew bells on to your shoes or something.”

 

He chuckles. She says that to him about three times a week. “Or you could pay more attention. I did knock.” He smirks as she grabs the remote and turns down the volume, glaring at him. 

 

She rolls her eyes. “All right. Go ahead.”

 

“What?”

 

“Make fun me. I can tell you want to, I can see it in your face.”

 

Bucky shakes his head and holds his hands up in a pacifying gesture. “Not quite, Darce. It’s just not what I was expecting.”

 

She eyes him skeptically as she sits down on the couch, curling her legs up under her to the right. “And?”

 

“And it’s…different?” He replies, plopping down next to her. “You’ve never played it before.”

 

“Yeah, it’s um…” A different, but very similar song comes on. Bucky reads the artist’s name again. Madonna. Stevie had mentioned her before…and blushed pretty hard core when he had. Darcy winces. “Look, it’s my happy playlist, okay?”

 

“It’s very…”

 

“Listen, 80’s and 90’s pop is bubbly and kinda synthy, but it makes me smile, okay? It’s childhood.” She grumbles defensively. “I had a really bad day, and Sam said I needed to start practicing better self-care, that I left my anxiety and depression keep me from taking care of myself. And I should start trying to do things that I used to like to do. Things that used to make me smile. So I made a playlist. And I came home, and I took a really really long hot bath and I put on your shirt because you left it here the other day and it smells like you, and I put on the playlist and I forgot that I like to dance, okay?” She's bright red at this point (from a blush that traveled all the way to her chest, which he could see from the open buttons on his shirt, fuck that thing barely fit her) and is turned away from him. 

 

His mouth curves up into a smile. “Okay, Doll. Three things.” Bucky lays his hand on her calf and rubs soothing circles into her skin with the tips of his fingers. “First, any time you want to borrow a shirt of mine, go ahead. As far as I’m concerned, my closet is yours.” She laughs, and he pushes on her shoulder with his other hand to get her to turn back to him. “Two, I’m glad you went to see Sam. I know it’s hard talking to someone about it, but that punk can really help.” His hand drifts up to her chin and tilts her face so that their foreheads are touching. “And third, I’ll never make fun of anything that makes you smile like that. It’s sexy as hell.” He kisses her softly and feels her smile against his lips. 

 

“Okay.” She murmurs. 

 

“I do wish you’d have let me join in on that bath, though.” He kisses her again, running his fingers through the wet strands of her hair. “Like you in my shirt, too. Legs for days.”

 

Darcy laughs again and kisses him, a little hungry and eager. He runs his hand up her leg, smooth and soft from her bath. She gasps, eyes slipping shut as he starts massaging her scalp. He curls his tongue against hers, tasting coffee and chocolate. When she pulls back for air, he takes a deep breath in. She smells like lavender. Christ, she's intoxicating. 

 

“Anything else Sam suggested for you try?” He asks. 

 

“Breathing, meditation, more exercise, yoga maybe.” Her hands come up to rest on his shoulders, hips turning so she's basically in his lap. His body reacts strongly to the image of Darcy bending and twisting into different yoga positions. “Said maybe your offer to train me was a good idea. Boost the endorphins, healthy outlet for the-“ She moans when his lips move down to her neck, featherlight kisses trailing down her skin. 

 

“We can work on that.” He breathes into her ear. She shivers. “You know what else is good for endorphins?”

 

She tilts her head up to smirk at him, eyes dancing. “What’s that, Sarge?”

 

“I’ll show you.” He growls.   


“I bet.” Darcy smirks, pulling away from him and stands up on shaky legs, sauntering down her hallway. She stops in front of the bedroom door, looking over her shoulder at him. “Combine some yoga stretches with some cardio?”

 

The smirk, the way her hips swayed as she moved, and the raspiness in her voice is too much for him to handle. He vaults off the couch and chases her into the room, tackling her to the bed. She laughs as they bounce against the mattress. The song has changed again and she sings along with it through her giggles. 

 

“Don’t go too fast, don’t go too slow, you’ve got to let your body flow. I like ‘em attentive, and I like ‘em in control…”

 

“Do you now?” 

 

“TLC, dude. Like I said, childhood.”

 

“You had an interesting childhood.”

 

He kisses her again, loving the sound of her laugh. He kisses her with a hard eagerness that she returns, curving up against him. He nips at her lips and releases the buttons of his shirt, wriggling her out of the fabric and tossing it to the side. She keeps singing as he discards both their clothes in record speed. “I’ll give you the red light special, all through the night, baby it’s yours, all yours, if you want it tonight. Just come through my door, take off my clothes, and turn on the red light…”

 

“Scratch interesting Doll. You had a filthy childhood.”

 

“90’s music is amazing.”

 

“You’re amazing.” He moves his hands up and down her sides, teasing touches to get goosebumps to raise up on her skin. Her hands move up down his back, scratching marks into his skin. “Let’s see how bendy you already are, sweetheart.” 

 

Darcy, it turns out, is very bendy. Bendy and pliant and willing to twist in his arms whichever way he directs. He pushes her knees against her chest, slipping inside her and fucking her deep and slow. She whines and clutches at his shoulders desperately, fluttering around him. He smirks when she whimpers as he pulls out, another idea occurring to him. 

 

He moves back to kneel in front of her and takes her legs, resting her ankles on his shoulders. When he slides into her from this angle she groans out a slew of curses combined with his name. She’s making filthy, dirty sounds as he thrusts, but she’s also laughing and teasing him. 

 

“My own personal trainer.” She smiles, hands gripping the sheets beneath her. “Sex cardio? I’ll never say no to cardio again, and I hate cardio. Oh, fuck, Bucky, that’s-“

 

“I know.”

 

She flutters around him and he can feel himself getting close, and she's still fucking rambling. “Man bun.” She whimpers. “You definitely need a man bun.”

 

“If you can talk, you’re not working hard enough.” She laughs and he joins her, thrusting into her harder and harder, both of them tumbling over the edge together. 

 

After a moment of harsh breathing and more laughing, he moves her legs back down to the mattress and massages the strained muscles. She curls to the side, nuzzling up against him as he lays down next to her. Her head is on his chest and he’s tracing her spine gently. 

 

“Do you really want me to train you, Doll?”

 

She nods. “Yeah. I think it’ll help. Just…don’t kill me, okay? I’m out of practice.”

 

Bucky chuckles. “Okay sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you for a while.”

 

“Mmm. Now, how about that second bath? I’m all gross and sweaty again thanks to your cardio session, Trainer.”

 

She grins up at him and he smiles down at her wolfishly. “I get to help you dirty, and then I get to help you get clean? Where do I sign up?”

 

“Right here.” Darcy replies, tapping her pointer finger against her lips. He laughs and leaned down to kiss her. 

 

“Do we have an agreement?”

 

“I think we do.”

 

 

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. So the lyrics from this one are from She Used to Be Mine, which is possibly my favorite song from the musical. There are also other songs mentioned in this chapter that Darcy sings, I've linked the YouTube videos below. They're from my personal Happy Playlist, which is filled with a lot of 80's and 90's pop. Judge me all you want XD
> 
> She Used to Be Mine  
> Music and Lyrics by Sara Bareilles
> 
> It's not simple to say  
> Most days I don't recognize me  
> That these shoes and this apron  
> That place and its patrons  
> Have taken more than I gave them  
> It's not easy to know  
> I'm not anything like I used to be  
> Although it's true  
> I was never attention's sweet center  
> I still remember that girl
> 
> She's imperfect but she tries  
> She is good but she lies  
> She is hard on herself  
> She is broken and won't ask for help  
> She is messy but she's kind  
> She is lonely most of the time  
> She is all of this mixed up  
> And baked in a beautiful pie  
> She is gone but she used to be mine
> 
> It's not what I asked for  
> Sometimes life just slips in through a back door  
> And carves out a person  
> And makes you believe it's all true  
> And now I've got you  
> And you're not what I asked for  
> If I'm honest I know I would give it all back  
> For a chance to start over  
> And rewrite an ending or two  
> For the girl that I knew
> 
> Who'll be reckless just enough  
> Who'll get hurt  
> But who learns how to toughen up when she's bruised  
> And gets used by a man who can't love  
> And then she'll get stuck  
> And be scared of the life that's inside her  
> Growing stronger each day  
> 'Til it finally reminds her  
> To fight just a little  
> To bring back the fire in her eyes  
> That's been gone but used to be mine
> 
> Used to be mine  
> She is messy but she's kind  
> She is lonely most of the time  
> She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie  
> She is gone but she used to be mine
> 
>  
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6Q3mHyzn78
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSaC-YbSDpo
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dP2t9LBeAwo


	6. Take a Breath When You Need to be Reminded That With Days Like These, We Can Only Do the Best We Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's been away on a mission for a while and calls Darcy to check in. She's feeling less than confident so he gives her some motivation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, another update!
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry it’s been so long…real life caught up with me. I moved to a new place and I’m a little over-worked and over-stressed. Blargh.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyhoo, this update is very fluffy (no smut) and a lot less angsty. Also, it's much shorter than the other chapters. Hopefully the next chapter will be much longer. 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> The song lyrics are from Opening Up, the same song the first chapter’s title is from, so I didn’t post it below.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

 

What the fuck had she been thinking?She was a political science major, for fuck’s sake. When Jane had suggested that she start looking into a Master’s program in astrophysics or computer science, she’d laughed. But the longer she’d spent with the team, the more useless she’d felt. She was surrounded by geniuses and superheroes (or in the case of Tony and Bruce, superhero geniuses). She could barely run a mile. When she threw a punch, she hurt herself more than the other person. She was more of a liability than an asset.

 

So eventually, she’d caved. Why the hell not, right? 

 

Well, this was why. This pile of books scattered across her living room floor. These notebooks filled with her loopy, faux cursive and numbers on numbers on numbers on numbers. She had mountains of homework, on top of her work for Jane, and she was at her breaking point. 

 

Just as she was about to decide to throw it all in the trash her phone rang.

 

Looking down and smiling, she slid her finger across the screen and accepted the call. “Well hey there, Sarge.” 

 

Bucky was on a classified mission with Steve and Sam, and had been gone for almost three months. It wasn’t often that he’d been able to call, but when he did it made her week.

 

His warm laugh drifts through the receiver into her ear. “Hey yourself. How’s my best girl?”

 

Darcy sighs and shrugs even though he can’t see the gesture. “Oh you know. About to drop out, resign my position and runaway from New York. Been thinking about California, I hear it’s pretty nice out there and I do like the beach.” 

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

“The worst, actually. I don’t know why I let Jane talk me into this. I’m not smart enough.”

 

“Yes. You are.”

 

The conviction in his voice is sweet, even if it doesn’t convince her. “I’m good with computers, sure. I can work some magic with the systems I’m comfortable with. But I’m not a genius. I’m barely even a decent assistant.” She rests her head back against the couch and closes her eyes, swallowing against the tight feeling in her throat and the crushing sense of defeat she’s feeling. “I can’t do this.”

 

“Darce.”

 

“What? It’s true.”

 

“Foster would forget to shower if it wasn’t for you.” 

 

Darcy nods. “I know, but-“

 

“She’d never eat. And all those fancy discoveries she’s made? She’d never write them down if you didn’t do it for her. I can’t keep up with all that shop talk you throw around. The big words you use, it’s like you’re speaking another language. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re one of the smartest dames I know.”

 

Darcy will never admit it, but she’s crying a little bit. The faith he has in her, it’s impossible to describe how comforting it is. She takes a deep breath and thinks about what Sam said their last session. “Can only do the best we can.” She whispers.

 

“Exactly.”

 

Darcy smiles and shifts the phone to her other ear, opening her eyes and wiping them a little. “I miss you.”

 

“I miss you too, Doll. Few more days and we’ll be home. We’re over due for a Dr. Who night.”

 

“Mmm. If I haven’t drowned in a sea of papers by then.”

 

Bucky chuckles in her ear. “Tell you what. You get through that homework by the time I get home, I’ll cook you dinner and give you a back rub.”

 

“Ooo, extrinsic motivation? I like it.”

 

“See, there’s that fancy talk. I have no idea what it means, but it sounds sexy.”

 

“You’d say that about anything coming out of my mouth.” Darcy chuckles. 

 

“You know I love the things you can do with that mouth.” Bucky growls. Darcy shivers. 

 

“I-“

 

He sighs, interrupting her. “I gotta go.”

 

Darcy sighs too. “All right. Tell Steve and Sam I said hey. Come home safe, yeah?”

 

“You know it. G’night Doll.”

 

“Good night, Sarge.”

 

As the call ends, she tosses her phone to the side. She stares at the pile of papers in front of her with a renewed sense of vigor. She’s got a back rub to earn. 

 

 

~FIN~ 

 

 


	7. What if I give myself away only to get it given back? I couldn't live with that. . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time she tells him she loves him is when she's hanging up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey howdy! 
> 
> This is a very sappy update. There's some smut in there too, but not much honestly. 
> 
> Anywho, hope you enjoy the sticky sweetness of it all! 
> 
> As usual, lyrics for the chapter title are at the end.

* * *

The first time she tells him she loves him is when she's hanging up the phone.

He's on his way back from a mission with Steve, a quick two day excursion in Europe. He's calling to check in and let her know he'll be there soon, and she says it, without thinking, and then hangs up.

"Should get there in about two hours, Doll. Want me to grab pizza on my way up?"

"Yes. Is that even a question? Yes."

"I can't wait. I'll see you soon."

"See you soon, Sarge. Love you."

Click.

Her heart simultaneously drops into her stomach and jumps into her throat. Shit. Fuck. Motherfucker. Every curse word goes through her mind at the same time.

She's not sure if it's been long enough to tell him she loves him. She's loved him almost from the beginning. She's sure he knows ~ it shows in every smile, every move, every touch. She's unapologetically and irreversibly in love with James Buchanan Barnes.

She's knows he knows.

She just hasn't said it.

He hasn't said it either.

And although she *thinks* she knows he loves her too, she's not sure. Because she's Darcy, and despite giving off an air of confidence and knowing in her heart and her brain that Bucky has been amazing and done things for her no sane man would do if he didn't love her, he hasn't said it yet so she isn't sure. She doesn't want to assume.

You know what they say about people who assume.

She spends the next two hours pacing around her apartment, quietly panicking. She cleans as she paces, and puts together a quick batch of red velvet cupcakes while ticking off all of the reasons it's okay that she's said it and reciting all of the reasons he loves her too.

"If he isn't ready to say it back, he'll just tell me. We communicate with each other like, really well. Way better than I ever have with anyone ever." She pauses, grabbing the cupcake liners from her cabinet.

"Which is kind of ironic, considering he's the quietest person I know." She sighs, putting the cupcakes in the preheated oven.

"He's not just going to panic and leave. It's been nine months, for fuck's sake. If he wanted to leave he'd have left already." She reminds herself as she starts the cream cheese frosting.

"And maybe he does love me." She murmurs as she pulls the cupcakes out of the oven, placing them on a rack to cool. "I mean. He's put up with a helluva lot. And the look he gives me sometimes. That soft, kind of overly fond look like I may just be the only reason he smiled that day. That's kind of like love, right?"

She hears him get to the door, keying in his access code when she's frosting the cooled cupcakes and her heart starts hammering against her rib cage like it's trying escape.

At this point, she's decided she's just going to not talk about it. Maybe he hadn't even heard her.

"Hey there." She says, holding up a cupcake. "Red velvet? To go with the pizza?"

Bucky quirks an eyebrow at her and places the pizza on her countertop, circling around to move behind her. "Cupcakes and pizza?" He asks, nuzzling her neck behind her ear.

"Mmmm. Like a birthday party. Cake and pizza and soda. Only maybe we'll just have beer."

Bucky presses a kiss against her throat and murmurs against her skin. "Missed you."

"Missed you too."

"Anything else you wanna say to me, Darce?"

She freezes, breath catching as he kisses back up to her ear and takes the lobe between his teeth.

"I'm not sure I follow, Bucky..."

"Said it on the phone. I almost didn't hear you. That on purpose?"

"Um..."

"Say it again." He growls, tugging her back against him. "Please."

"I love you?" She says it like a question, still kind of terrified that he's not going to say it back.

"I love you too." He says, before tilting her chin and kissing her soundly, licking into her mouth. She spins herself around and wraps her arms around his neck, lifting up on to tip toes to try and reach him better.

He grabs her legs and lifts her up to wrap her around him. When he pushes her against the wall, he breaks the kiss and looks down at her, amusement and fire dancing in his eyes. "The cupcakes because you were nervous? Thought I wasn't gonna say it back?"

Darcy smiles sheepishly and dips her head. "Maybe. A little bit."

Bucky's smile is soft and a little sad. "Sweetheart, if you don't know I love you by now, I'm not doing something right. That changes right here, right now."

Some passionate kisses, lost articles of clothing, and a brief detour with his mouth between her legs while she's bent over the couch later, they end up pressed into her sheets. He slips into her slow and sweet and holds her hand, fingers entwined in his metal ones. His other hand is stroking her cheek, pushing dark curls back from her face so he can see her better, lips sipping kisses between every breath.

As he makes love to her, he tells her how much he loves her. How much he needs her. How she's the perfect fit to his broken pieces and how he doesn't know how he'd survive without her.

She whispers back to him that he's everything she's ever wanted, and more than she's ever thought she deserved, and that he makes every love song she's ever heard and thought was stupid suddenly make sense.

Darcy pushes against his shoulders and switches their positions so she's on top, and she grinds against him slow and steady, swirling her hips and gasping as his hands roam over her skin. She whimpers I love you as she comes, and he kisses her and whispers it back when he follows her over the edge.

They don't make it back out to the living room for pizza and cupcakes until the next morning.

It's the best breakfast she's ever had.

  
~FIN~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When He Sees Me"  
> Music and Lyrics by Sara Bareillis
> 
> I stick with real things,  
> Usually facts and figures.  
> When information's in its place,  
> I minimize the guessing game.  
> Guess what?  
> I don't like guessing games.  
> Or when I feel things,  
> Before I know the feelings.  
> How am I supposed to operate,  
> If I'm just tossed around by fate?  
> Like on an unexpected date?
> 
> The stranger who might talk too fast,  
> Or ask me questions about myself,  
> Before I've decided that,  
> He can ask me questions about myself.  
> He might sit too close.  
> Or call the waiter by his first name,  
> Or eat Oreos,  
> But eat the cookie before the cream?  
> But what scares me the most,  
> what scares me the most,
> 
> Is what if when he sees me, what if he doesn't like it?  
> What if he runs the other way and I can't hide from it?  
> What happens then?  
> If when he knows me, he's only disappointed?  
> What if I give myself away, to only get it given back?  
> I couldn't live with that.
> 
> So, I'm just fine, inside my shell-shaped mind.  
> This way I get the best view.  
> So, when he sees me, I want him to.
> 
> I'm not defensive.  
> I'm simply being cautious.  
> I can't risk reckless dating,  
> Due to my miscalculating.   
> While a certain suitor stands in line,  
> I've seen in movies,  
> Most made for television,  
> You cannot be too careful,  
> When it comes to sharing your life.  
> I could end up a miserable wife.
> 
> He could be criminal, some sort of psychopath   
> who escaped from an institution,   
> somewhere where they don't have girls.  
> He could have masterminded some way to find me.  
> He could be colorblind.  
> How untrustworthy is that.  
> He could be less than kind.  
> Or even worse he could be very nice, have lovely eyes.  
> And make me laugh, come out of hiding.  
> What do I do with that?  
> Oh, God.
> 
> What if when he sees me,  
> I like him and he knows it?  
> What if he opens up a door,  
> And I can't close it?  
> What happens then?  
> If when he holds me,  
> My heart is set in motion,  
> I'm not prepared for that.  
> I'm scared of breaking open.  
> But still I can't help from hoping,  
> To find someone to talk to,  
> Who likes the way I am.  
> Someone who when he sees me,  
> Wants to again.


End file.
